


the crane wife

by oryx



Category: Kamen Rider 555
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Fluff, Human/Non-human Romance, Post-Canon, monsterhood as an allegory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 18:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: A chance meeting turns into something that Yuka wouldn't dare call a date. (It totally is, though.)





	the crane wife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orjange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orjange/gifts).

It’s as she stands in the corner of the theatre lobby, feeling a bit out of place amid the activity, clutching the strap of her bag with one hand and her ticket with the other, that someone calls her name. It almost doesn’t register for a moment. Nearly lost amid the chatter of the other people milling about. She turns, and –  
  
“I thought it was you,” Sonoda Mari says with a bright grin. She’s done up her hair differently than usual, a messy bun with her bangs held back with colourful pins, and Yuka simply stares at her for a moment, wide-eyed. “Are you here with somebody?”  
  
“Ah… no,” she admits. “Kiba-san was going to come, but. He’s not really feeling well today. He always seems to catch a cold this time of year.”  
  
Mari makes a sympathetic face. “It’s so weird,” she says. “How that can even still happen to you guys, y’know?” She lowers her voice and leans in close enough that Yuka can smell the light, fruity scent of her shampoo. “I just feel like, once you’ve _died_ you should probably be immune to the common cold. Goes for me, too, obviously. I think we deserve that much.”  
  
Yuka blinks. Hides a startled laugh behind her hand. “I agree,” she says, with a faux-serious nod. “It’d only be fair.”  
  
“You think he could use a kind, caring nursemaid?” Mari muses, digging her phone out of her pocket. “I can think of someone who could be… maybe one of those two things, if he’s in a good mood. And only because it’s Kiba.”  
  
Yuka hesitates for a moment. “I think… that would maybe be good, yeah. For both of them. Since they’re kind of…”  
  
She trails off, unsure of how to put it into words, the awkward in-between thing that’s happening with those two, but Mari seems to understand exactly what she means, humming in acknowledgment as she selects “Takkun” from her contacts. Yuka can’t help but read from her screen as she types “hey dumbass i just heard ur boyfriend is sick today, u should go check on him” into a new text message.  
  
“Do you… like this sort of thing, Sonoda-san? Theatre?”  
  
“Hm? Oh… Not really.” She looks a bit sheepish. “My friend from work is in this play, actually. Not like a big part or anything. She’s ‘Townsperson #3’ or something. But she gave me a free ticket and I promised I’d come see it, so. What about you? Is this your kind of thing?”  
  
“I… yeah. I like plays and things like that.” It feels a little odd and nervewracking to say it out loud, though she’s not quite sure why. “I always wanted to be in the theatre club at school, actually. Not performing. Obviously. Just… helping with sets and costumes, maybe.”  
  
Mari tilts her head to the side. “Why didn’t you?”  
  
“I…” She can feel her grip tighten around the strap of her purse. It’s a good question. Why hadn’t she? Maybe she could’ve made a friend, and found a place to belong, and things could’ve gotten better. But she’d been too paralyzed. It was best, she’d thought then, to do as little as possible. To make herself small and unnoticeable, without substance, just a vague, formless shadow in the far corner of everyone’s thoughts.  
  
“Oh, they’re seating now,” Mari is saying, and Yuka starts, jolted back into this place and time. “Let’s sit next to each other, okay?”  
  
Standing in between the rows, she reaches out to grab Yuka’s hand, saying “those two over there look good,” and Yuka can feel herself smile hesitantly as she’s pulled along, as they take their seats and Mari begins recounting a story her coworker told her about a ghost that supposedly haunts this theatre, a glint in her eye as she does so.  
  
If she’d joined that club, and had that friend, maybe it would’ve been a bit like this.  
  
  
  
  
  
“This… sucks.”  
  
“Eh? It’s – it’s not that bad.” The protest sounds half-hearted even to her own ears. She glances around the lobby, hoping none of the cast has decided to step out during the intermission like they have. She wouldn't want to offend them.  
  
“It is!” Arms folded, mouth curved into a frown, Mari taps her foot against the floor. “Not the actors’ faults, though. The story’s just boring garbage, if you ask me.”  
  
“Well, it’s. Definitely not _great_,” Yuka admits. The synopsis on the website had made it sound far more thrilling and heartfelt than the stiff, predictable plot they’ve been watching unfold.  
  
Mari pauses; seems to be considering her options.  
  
“You want to get out of here?” she asks.  
  
“…What?”  
  
“I mean I guess you paid for your ticket, right? So I get it, if you don’t want to. But I’m just thinking… that we could probably have a better time somewhere else.” She purses her lips thoughtfully. “I think there’s a band playing at the park tonight. At least that way we’d get to be outside, right?”  
  
Caught up in the realization that this is no longer just a coincidental meeting, that she is being _invited_ somewhere, Yuka can only nod.  
  
Mari stretches her arms over her head as they step out of the theatre doors. It's mid-afternoon, and the sun is high, a a few thin wisps of cloud the only thing obstructing the sky. The weather _is_ nice, she supposes. Too much so to be sitting in a stuffy darkened room.  
  
“I just hate plots like that,” Mari mutters, as the two of them begin to walk side-by-side in the direction of the park. “Where a girl dies so a guy can be sad about it. So annoying. Like what about her, right? Doesn’t she deserve to be more important?”  
  
Yuka has never really considered it before. There are so many stories like that.  
  
“I say someone should rewrite all of them to be about the girl instead,” Mari declares, and she looks so righteous in this moment that Yuka can’t help but laugh.  
  
“I’ll support you on your mission.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
She promptly embarks on a rant about a similar book she was forced to read during her years at the Ryusei School, of which she still holds a special place of hatred in her heart (“I loved my dad, don’t get me wrong, but his idea of a curriculum for kids was so awful”). Yuka wonders if it should feel boring, to listen to someone describe the failings of a novel she herself has never heard of. Oddly, it’s the opposite. Something about Sonoda Mari keeps her attention fixated no matter what it is she might be talking about.  
  
The band – a few local guys with dyed hair and pierced ears and seemingly more enthusiasm than musical skill – is still in the process of setting up and mic checking when they arrive at the park’s central plaza, and so the two of them set off to do a loop around the perimeter pathways as a way to pass the time.  
  
It’s as they turn past the towering old elm tree with the roots that have broken through the paving that a bird hops into the center of the path. A finch, she thinks, though she still hasn’t gotten the hang of differentiating them. It stares up at her with its pure black eyes, utterly still, and she stops short to stare back at it in return. Next to her, she can sense Mari slowing her pace and glancing back and forth in bewilderment.  
  
Yuka holds out her hand, and the finch flits up to land on her finger.  
  
Mari makes a startled noise. And an even more startled noise when Yuka smiles and pats the bird on its soft head with a single fingertip.  
  
“They just tend to like me,” she says, by way of explanation. “It’s kind of hard putting out the laundry sometimes, because they’ll all be lined up along the railing? But it’s cute, and they’re kind of like my friends, so…” Her words fade away. She feels self-conscious, suddenly, warmth prickling the back of her neck. These things that seem typical to her are most likely bizarre to a normal human.  
  
Mari looks genuinely amazed, though. “That… is adorable,” she says. “So it’s like an affinity thing? Since you’re a bird, too – oh my god, is that why dogs follow Takumi home all the time?”  
  
“Does… Does that really happen?”  
  
“It does, I swear! Every few days I’ll catch him at the door trying to keep some sad looking stray dog from getting inside. I think he feels bad and leaves food out for them sometimes.” She huffs out a wry laugh as she studies the finch. “I’d say you’ve probably gotten the better deal. …Now I kind of want to come to your place to see them. That’s so sweet that they just hang around out there.”  
  
Yuka thinks about Kaidou, then. Him with a dour expression, muttering “your damn birds are outside again,” making a racket in order to scare them away even as she protests. It’s reasonable, she’s told herself. There are some species that are natural predators of snakes, after all.  
  
That must be why he ignores her when she tells him not to.  
  
“Um,” she says. “Maybe you could – ”  
  
A scream cuts through the air like a knife, and the bird takes off in a flash.  
  
They both whip around to stare in the direction it came from. Not a child playing, or a shriek of laughter. It had been a genuine sound of fear.  
  
“What was that,” Mari murmurs.  
  
“You don’t think,” Yuka starts. She doesn’t want to say it. An Orphenoch. And so she goes with: “Someone’s in trouble?”  
  
Mari takes a breath; nods grimly. “I guess we should check it out. Just in case.”  
  
Yuka’s fears turn out to be correct as they turn down a long lane lined with weeping willows to find a young couple pressed against a bench, huddled together in terror as an ashen, inhuman figure reaches out for them. There doesn’t seem to be any time to waste with making calls, creating distractions.  
  
“I’ll help,” Yuka says simply, jaw clenched and fist curling at her side as she shifts into her other skin.  
  
The enemy – like a seahorse, she thinks, a long, thin snout and a tail tightly curled – seems taken aback when her fist connects with their side, sending them stumbling from their course. They straighten back up and stare at her, perplexed.  
  
_What are you doing?_ they ask. _You’re like me._  
  
_It’s not right to hurt innocent people_, Yuka says firmly. She gestures to Mari behind her back, who darts forward to grab the two humans by the shoulders, hissing “c’mon, you have to run” as she hauls them off the bench and towards safety.  
  
_How do you know they’re innocent?_ Their voice is bitter, suddenly. Raw. _What if I said they hurt me?_  
  
Yuka freezes. Lowers her fists by a fraction. _That’s… I guess I don’t know, then. What you should do. But I don’t think killing them will really make you feel better, in the long run._ She hesitates for a moment. _For me, it… It just made me feel even more alone._  
  
They look at her steadily.  
  
_You’re a weird one,_ they say finally. _Aren’t we chosen, or something? To be better than humans? Why shouldn’t we use our power?_  
  
_Most people would look at us and think we’re evil monsters,_ Yuka says. _So… wouldn’t it be better not to be what they expect?_  
  
They laugh at that – harsh and callous. And yet their Orphenoch form begins to fade away as she observes them, revealing a gangly teenage boy with tiredness written across his face, wearing ill-fitting clothes and a hat pulled down over his hair. His lip trembles. He jams his hands into his pockets, a wet sheen to his eyes as he glances aside.  
  
“Whatever,” he mutters, swallowing visibly as he turns away from her. “Those two don’t matter to me anyway.”  
  
Yuka watches him walk away, shoulders hunched, until he makes a left through the park gate into the street beyond and is gone. Should she go after him? Is that what Kiba would do? Or would that only make it worse? It's no good for their kind to be alone too long. But sometimes it's what you need.  
  
“You sounded pretty cool just then.”  
  
Mari hops forward to stand beside her, hands clasped behind her back, smiling gently.  
  
_Eh? Y-you think?_ The hollow, echoing tone of her voice reminds her that she’s still transformed, and she does what she usually does, letting out a breath, focusing on the cool, marble-like skin fading away, the thrum of strength dissipating, and –  
  
She stares down at her hands, pale grey and sharp-tipped fingers, which are decidedly not changing back.  
  
“I think you definitely got through to him a bit,” Mari is saying. “You know you… You… Are you okay, Yuka-chan?”  
  
_Um_, she says. She can feel something fluttery and panicked beginning to work its way through her chest. She tries the calm breathing method again, and again, but opens her eyes each time to find herself still the same. _Not to alarm you, but. I think I might be. Stuck? Like this._  
  
Mari blinks.  
  
“Huh,” she says after a moment. “Well that’s new.”  
  
  
  
  
  
It takes quite a bit of stealth-like effort, darting from tree to tree, but they somehow make it to the tunnel under the park bridge with only one close call of someone nearly spotting her. Yuka sinks down to crouch there on the concrete, grey arms circling around her knees as she sighs. Outside, the supposedly beautiful weather has taken a sudden turn for the grey as well, clouds gathering overhead and the air thick with humidity, and the first few flecks of rain can be seen against the pavement.  
  
“So how do you usually do it?” Mari asks. She’s leaning against the tunnel wall with a perturbed frown.  
  
_I don’t knowww,_ she groans. _Every time before it just – it just happened! I didn’t have to think too much about it or anything._  
  
“Maybe ‘cause it’s been a while? Like it’s been months since the whole Orphenoch King deal. That was probably the last time, right? That you transformed?”  
  
_Maybe,_ she says. Somehow that doesn’t seem quite right, though. It’s true she hasn’t worn this form in months, but. She’s felt closer to it, her power, ever since that day they defeated the King. Less like it’s another, secret self and more like she and it are one and the same.  
  
Maybe that’s a little frightening, too, in a way. Feeling intrinsically tied to being something inhuman – an identity she can no longer hope to shake.  
  
Unable to truly be the impressionless shadow she used to strive for, because instead she is made of solid marble and bright feathers.  
  
“I mean,” Mari says, “even if you stayed like that forever, I’d still hang out with you.”  
  
Yuka glances up to find her grinning, cheeks dimpled.  
  
“Though it might be kind of tough to go out to eat or something. We’d have to order in. Until everyone else catches up with the whole Orphenoch rights movement.”  
  
She reaches down to offer her hand, and Yuka takes it after a moment of hesitation, allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet. She’s taller than usual like this, and Mari stares up at her with wide, contemplative eyes, still holding her hand loosely.  
  
“You know,” she says. “I used to be so afraid of Orphenochs, but… Up close most of you are… Really pretty, actually? Especially you.” Adds quickly: “Not that you aren’t pretty as a human, too.”  
  
Yuka laughs – a thin, nervous sound. _You don’t have to say that._  
  
“I’m serious! This form is super cute. You’re like a…” Her voice fades a bit, distracted as she lifts her free hand to touch Yuka’s cheek, tracing the patterns that curve back around her face with a barely-there touch, and Yuka feels rooted to the spot by it. “Like a sculpture. But you’re so alive.”  
  
There’s usually a resistance to touch, in this form. It becomes muted, somehow. Distant. Her flesh becomes like armor, shielding her from harm. But the place where Mari’s fingers have to come to rest is so warm. It sinks down through her marble skin and settles in the space between her ribs.  
  
“Maybe,” Mari says, and her smile turns a bit awkward and shy, a rare expression on her. “Maybe it’s like a fairytale, y’know? And someone could just…”  
  
She seems to steel herself, then, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a kiss against the place where Yuka's lips would be. She takes a sharp breath. This, too. It’s so warm.  
  
The tips of Mari’s ears are tinged with pink as she pulls away to observe, face falling a bit when no immediate change seems to occur.  
  
“I guess it wouldn’t be that easy,” she laughs, slightly overloud. “That was a weird idea anyway, sorry.”  
  
Yuka shakes her head. Her throat feels tight. _No, I think. I think that helps, actually._  
  
This time, when she lets out that long breath, and closes her eyes, she opens them to find her flesh and blood hands held in Mari’s. Only this time they don’t feel so different from her Orphenoch hands. She flexes her fingers experimentally. Touches her hair, her face, soft and more pliant. But no more real. No more hers. That was the thing, she thinks. She'd been focusing too much on contrast, on separation. But maybe soon there will be none.  
  
That thought doesn’t scare her the way it used to.  
  
“You think they’re still having the concert?” she asks.  
  
Mari is grinning. “I mean. Those guys kinda seemed like they’d play through anything.”  
  
She offers her arm and Yuka links hers through it, and they step out from the tunnel into the rain, falling heavier now, shielding their eyes from it and laughing as they run.


End file.
